Evening In Ninety-nine Syllables

I walked in the garden this eveningAnd saw the tallest roses swaying;The trees' greenest branches were bobbing—The breeze moved each one of us just then.And here the robin was digging deep,And was hopping there under the thorns,Searching. And I wondered what she'd find.Above, our deep blue sky turned dusk gray.One star or two began to bleed through.Strange, that a young moon always smiles bright,It seems, while chasing the sunset light.